Part 10 (2/2)
”Sometimes, the slower you go, the more you can savor the route and antic.i.p.ate the arrival.” Was he speaking of horses now, or his slow pursuit of Lydia herself? He knew the answer to that question-but did she? They both talked, but how much did either of them really say, and how much of their conversations, the important parts, lay in what was not said?
Her cheeks colored slightly, and Tanner knew he couldn't credit that color to the few minutes she'd been in the warm fresh air. His hopes soared. He was really quite the pathetic fellow, and he knew it.
He hastened into speech: ”What were you and Jasmine-Jasmine, mostly, I'm sure-talking about? Were you listening at all?”
Lydia smiled at him. ”There was little else to listen to. She was only telling me about Malvern. So far, I know that the house is big. And huge. And enormous. She's quite intimidated by its size, probably because, as a young child, she once got herself lost in the West Wing. But you know that because you are the brave hero who found her, rescued her, and carried her safely back to civilization when she was convinced she would be lost forever and succ.u.mb to cold and hunger.”
”Good G.o.d, she said that? Did she also tell you that she'd closed herself up in a linen cupboard and fallen asleep? How did she expect to be found? And she wasn't that young, Lydia. I believe she was twelve or thirteen at the time, at least. She hasn't gone a step farther than the drawing room since then whenever she and her father visit. She's a...she's rather timid about some things.”
”And with a tendency to overstate matters, it would seem. But now you're no longer a brave hero, are you?” she asked, humor in her voice. ”That's too bad, as I was quite impressed when I believed you to be one. Perhaps you've done something else worthy of my maidenly awe and admiration?”
She wanted to bandy words with him, did she? Well, he was more than amenable. Words could be quite...evocative.
”Not lately, no. But I shall endeavor to do so at the earliest possible moment. Did you have any special feat of derring-do in mind?”
She pretended to consider his question, and he felt his heart swelling, because she obviously felt comfortable enough with him to tease him.
”Are there dangerous dragons at Malvern?”
”The fire-breathing sort, you mean?” He refrained from saying Justin's name.
”Are there other sorts?”
”Oh, yes,” he said with all the solemnity he could muster. ”Several, in fact. The h.o.r.n.y-toad sort, for one. All b.u.mpy, you understand, and his breath gives you warts. The double-tailed sort-they make a real havoc when they're happy and begin wagging those tails. Many a village cottage has had to be re-thatched over the years thanks to those considerable appendages. Lastly, there's the red-eyed five-legged nut-hatcher. Although, sadly, we haven't seen any of them ever since the walnut trees were felled by a blight some years ago and the lack of their favorite food forced them to relocate. I heard a few have been spotted feeding somewhere in the vicinity of Bagshot Heath, but that may only be rumor.”
”A pity, as I would have liked to see the red-eyed nut-hatcher.”
”Red-eyed, five-legged nut-hatcher,” Tanner said. ”The four-legged sort is still flouris.h.i.+ng quite well with the hazelnuts.”
”I stand corrected, thank you. I suppose I'll simply have to make do with having you slay one of the double-tailed sort. You'll not want to risk warts, after all. Brave heroes, I'm convinced, should not be plagued by warts.”
”They would vastly take away from my consequence, I agree. And if the dragons have all gone in search of greener pastures? How then am I to impress you, fair maiden?”
”Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something,” she said, and then her eyes got rather wide and she looked away from him.
”Lydia?” he asked after giving her a few moments to compose herself. Clearly she was as unused to verbal sparring with a man as he was with a woman. They were two rather reserved people, actually, except for the fact that they were trying, perhaps too hard, to not be so very circ.u.mspect anymore. Staid. Safe. Careful.
”Yes?” she asked him, sitting very erect and proper on the sidesaddle.
”Have you brought along the boots?”
Did she know what he was asking her?
Slowly, she turned her head toward him and looked him full in the face. As if she'd come to some sort of decision. ”You said I would be able to see the world from the top of one of the hills. How could I not bring the boots? I'm...I'm very much looking forward to everything you can show me.”
Tanner's mount danced a bit as he accidentally tugged on the reins. Either she knew what he'd been saying, or she was so innocent he should pack her up the moment they got to the posting inn and send her home to her brother.
”There are so many things I want to show you, Lydia,” he said, watching her closely.
”And so much I want to learn,” she replied softly, her long lashes coming down to hide the expression in her eyes.
So beautiful. So chaste and demure.
Was she telling him without telling him that she was ready for more? He believed she was. Hoped she was.
He had Rafe's blessing, along with his advice that a woman can weary of being treated like a fragile flower. If that hadn't been enough, there had also been the whispered words from Charlotte as he quit the study: ”Tell her, Tanner. Show her. She's ready to wake from whatever dreams she's hidden in for so long. She longs to be a woman. Don't let anyone else be the one who wakes her. Not if you love her.”
Ahead of them, the coach began to slow as they approached a small hamlet and the Hoof and Claw. A fresh team and food and drink would greet them on their arrival. Along with the Baron Justin Wilde, currently prettying himself up in one of the bedchambers, cheerfully determined to make his friend's life as complicated as possible.
”At my invitation, no less,” Tanner muttered under his breath.
”Pardon me? Did you say something?” Lydia asked him as they turned their horses into the inn yard.
”I asked if you're hungry. Justin promised to order us a meal.”
”I was so busy saying goodbye to everyone that I completely forgot breakfast. Is that why he rode ahead? That was very thoughtful of him.”
”That's Justin, thoughtful. The man is positively br.i.m.m.i.n.g with thoughts all the time. Let me help you down.”
Tanner dismounted, handing the reins to the young ostler who'd run up to grab them, and walked around his horse to raise his arms to Lydia. She kicked her foot free of the stirrup as she lifted her other leg up and over the pommel before resting her hands on his shoulders.
Gripping her slim waist, he allowed her body to slowly slide down his, holding her still until the ostler had led their mounts away. He searched her eyes with his gaze, longing to tell her how beautiful she was, how just the sight of her smile could steal his breath from him, make him want to promise her not just the world but the sun and the stars. Instead he said quietly, solemnly, ”I don't say things as well as Justin does, Lydia. But when I say something, I mean it.”
She lifted a hand to his bandaged cheek, cupping it gently for the s.p.a.ce of a heartbeat. ”I know. I'll remember.”
He felt foolish, even disloyal to one of his best friends. ”I'd never hurt you.”
”I know that, too.” Her hand drifted back down to her side. ”They're probably wondering where we are. Shall we go inside?”
He nodded, then stepped back and offered her his arm.
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
JASMINE AND LYDIA were given over into the capable hands of the innkeeper's wife and escorted to a room set aside for them, to refresh themselves, while Tanner was also shown to a chamber, perhaps the same one occupied by the baron.
”Oh, isn't this a lovely room?” Jasmine said as she headed straight for the pitcher of fresh water and the white earthenware washbasin. ”Do you mind if I clean my hands first? You've been riding, and even with gloves, you're probably very dusty and smell of horse, and I wouldn't want to wash in dirty water.”
Since the girl was already pouring water into the basin, Lydia didn't bother to answer what would have seemed an insult from anyone even an inch more cunning than Jasmine Harburton. She only walked to the small mirror hanging above a dresser to check on the position of her hat, the rather small, silly one that mimicked a man's curly brimmed beaver, but was worn at a rather rakish angle atop her blond curls, angled down over her left eye. Perhaps it was the color she liked best, a perfect match to her emerald green riding habit. Or, more probably, what made the hat so special was the fetching array of peac.o.c.k plumes stuck to the back of it and standing in the air a good eight inches or more, and the half-veil that she'd pulled down once she was aboard Daisy, so that when she'd looked at Tanner, it was through the clever wisp of veil. She felt jaunty in this hat. Even sophisticated.
Full of false courage? Goodness, if a hat could make her feel this way, imagine how courageous men felt when they'd strapped on a sword. Were both women's hats and men's swords to be considered weapons? And what battle did men and women fight?
”Now there's a question I would never ask Charlotte, because she'd probably answer me,” she told her reflection quietly.
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